


Him

by ItsTheQueen



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 05:00:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4291629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsTheQueen/pseuds/ItsTheQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was just a whisper of my past. Just a spell in the wind. He had escaped my mind, left my memory. Until he came back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Three years ago:

I bit my lip, checking my watch and looking back up to the front of the line. This was going to take forever. I looked around the small coffee shop, bouncing on the balls of my feet. Adjusting my scarf, I looked back at the menu. This was the point when I had enough time to re decide on my order. Maybe just skip the tea for today. Could I? No. There was no way I would skip the tea. I checked my watch again, poking my head out to look at the length of the line in front of me. 

"Hey." I heard a voice whisper beside me. I looked up, seeing a tall man in jogging clothes standing in line for the second register. He smiled at me, bright blue eyes shining. "You can cut in here if you want." He said, pointing in front of him. I looked at him, hesitant. "You look like you're in a hurry." He said kindly, running a hand through messy blonde hair. I took a second look at him; he was actually pretty cute. His eyes twinkled when he smiled, and he smiled a lot. On a normal day I would have turned him down out of politeness, but I was in a bit of a rush. I thanked him, side-stepping in front of him in the line.

Considering it was New York, I half expected him to start trying to grope me, but he did nothing. "I totally get it." He said, trying to step to the side and face me. He was looking at me with an actual interest, unlike the nonchalant men I was used to at work. "What do you usually get?" He asked, obviously trying to start conversation. On a regular basis, his prying would annoy me, but he seemed more friendly than creepy--plus there was a long wait. 

"Just--uhm--" I cleared my throat, pressing my lips together. "Just a black tea. One sugar, no cream." He looked relieved, like he understood. 

"Ah, good. Keeping it simple. I never really know what to get. I'm a little new to these shops." I knit my brow, looking up at the all-too familiar sign. He noticed my confusion, chuckling. "Let's just say I've been kinda living under a rock." I grinned, laughing. Who was this guy?

An awkward silence proceeded, and I stepped forward in the line. "So what puts you out this early in the morning?" I asked, trying to fill the gap of speech. He looked up at me through his lashes, and I almost flinched. I was a bit taken back by his abrupt handsomeness, but quickly recovered. 

"I go out running every morning, that gets me up pretty early." He explained. We were next up in line, and I got out my wallet. "Hey." He said, covering my hand and reaching into his back pocket. "No need. Let me buy you your drink." He said. I bit my lip, smiling at him. I wasn't sure I wanted to know what the other end of the bargain was, considering he was a stranger, but hey. He was cute. He ordered my drink along with a coffee, and I looked at him. He was.... buff. I went to the gym a few times a week, and he was on a scale that I rarely even saw there. 

"Thank you." I said, taking the cup from him after we stepped out of line. 

"Yeah. Maybe you could, eh..." He looked nervous, his hands fidgeting with the cup placed in them. "Help me out with all the new stuff here." He said, his voice verging on anxious as he looked hopefully back up at me. 

I bit my lip, half of my brain screaming no. "I mean, sure. I'm here almost every day in the morning." I smiled at him, running a hand through my hair. He nodded, taking a step back. 

"I'll let you go. Hope I didn't scare you away." He said, still fiddling nervously with his coffee cup. He was cute. He was okay. I walked backwards, heading towards the door and giving a small wave.

The next morning was the same. I walked in and saw him sitting at a table by the counter. This morning I had just come back from the gym, wearing a sports bra and track shorts. It was hot in August, so I'd decided against my workout tank and just went. I usually went to the gym early, and then jogged down to the coffee shop. I didn't have work today, so I figured if the 'mystery man' was here, I would have plenty.

He looked up when I walked in, and I immediately got into line, not wasting any time. He smiled when he saw me, and I gave a short shy wave. I got my tea, not waiting for him to ask me before sitting with him at the table. He looked me up and down, biting his bottom lip, and I straightened. I was a little self-concious, but he laughed, leaning onto the table.

"You just come from a run, too?" He asked. I nodded, taking a sip from my tea.

"So, I'm here to teach you about the 21st century?" I asked, smirking at him. He nodded, grabbing a smartphone from his bag. "What'd you live in Montana? They still ride horses there?" I asked, laughing nervously at my own bad joke. He seemed to get it, though, and laughed. 

"Nah, I just had a... dilemna..." He cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. He seemed to be avoiding the topic, but I let it go.

"So." He said, pulling out a small notepad. "Nirvana. What's that?" I laughed, leaning back in my chair and setting my tea on the table.

"90s music." I said, laughing. He looked confused. "1990s." I said, giving him a funny look. "If you want good music, we can listen to the 7os sometime." I said. He raised his eyebrows, full attention on me. "Nirvana was a grunge band. They were a big deal because they were one of the first punk bands, and their songs were kinda dark and emotional. They spoke to a lot of teens. Their lead singer, Kurt Cobain committed suicide in 1993, which ended the group." I myself was a music junkie, and I knew pretty much everything about everything from the 1900s music. Anything new, though, I knew nothing. He looked at me, smiling slightly. He looked like he was about to say something, but then looked back at his notepad. 

"Ray Charles." He read, looking up at me. I grinned, licking my teeth. 

"Ray Charles was a legend." I said, confused as to why he didn't know popular music from back to the 70s. I didn't ask. "He was blind, for starters. He sang and played piano and wrote amazing songs, all without ever physically seeing. Not only was he handi-capped, but his music was fantastic. He released hit after hit, and..." I broke off, realizing he was staring at me. "What?" I asked, leaning away. 

He scratched his jaw, smirking. "You seem to be really into this." He said, placing an elbow on the table. I looked away, suddenly shy, and grabbed a sweater from my bag. It was too hot out to wear it, but I draped it across my lap, feeling too naked.

"If you want to talk music, I'll talk music all day long." I said, perching my chin on my palm. 

He continued to stare at me, smiling with every part of his face but his lips. After a moment he spoke, crossing his arms and checking his watch. "What's your name?" He asked, picking his bag up from under his chair. 

I licked my lips, looking up at him. I never really realized how tall he was until now. "Giselle. Founder." I said, stuttering awkwardly. He pulled a page out of his miniature notepad, taking pen and scribbling on it. 

"Well, it was lovely meeting you, Giselle." He smirked, handing me the piece of paper with ten numbers neatly drawn on it. "Same time tomorrow?" He joked, shouldering a knapsack. I picked my tea up from the table, sipping from it again. "We should talk again soon, though. Really." He said, pointing at the piece of paper perched wedged two of my fingers. "My name's Steve Rogers."

And that's how it went. Almost every day for two whole years.


	2. 2014

Last year:  
We had been dating for a year and a half, and it was a few days after our anniversary. We'd bought an apartment together, bodacious and with an ample amount of room, and I spent most of my time out of work there. Work, gym, home. Work, Gym, Home, Repeat. I went from working at a gymnastics training center to a martial arts headquarters, both of which I had practically mastered in in college. 

Steve had been going to work a lot more lately, but that didn't bother me too much. It was only when it came to the point where he would spend whole nights away that I would have to talk to him about it. 

"Steve." I had approached him one night in bed, he was reading a book I'd given him and I was writing. "You spend so much time away now." I said, trying to keep it a casual conversation. He'd slowly started to talk to me a lot less, and he seemed a lot more stressed. "I'm worried about you." I didn't want to look him in the eye. He'd get a terrible look, a stony and guarded expression. His eyes always told me he was building walls. Putting up walls to block me out. 

"Work has been really busy." Was his reply. I had turned to look at him then. 

"Talk to me about it?" I said, resting my head lightly on his shoulder. His book dropped a few degrees, and I looked up at him. "You never really talk to me anymore." I said softly.

He paused for a long time before answering, and when he did his voice sounded weak, and constricted. "There's not much to talk about. Nothing big is happening, it's just a lot of... paperwork." He always used paperwork as an excuse, like it was a safe zone. Like it was one base I didn't know anything about and it didn't pertain to me. He picked his book back up, dismissing the conversation. Just like that. 

"Steve." I repeated, turning and crossing my legs so we were facing each other. "Look at me." I put a hand on the book, trying to push it down. He looked back up at me, his eyes blank and unreadable. I bit my lip, swallowing before continuing. "You can't just push me away. At least talk to me." I said, my voice sounding higher than normal. He looked away, almost immediately, and I could see his Adam;s Apple bobbing. 

"I'm not." He said, fiddling with the hem of the sheets. 

"You are." I argued, setting my jaw. We hadn't done anything in months. Hadn't kissed, hadn't held hands, nothing. I pursed my lips, sighing when he didn't answer. "Fine." I said, shaking my head. "If you want to talk about something... if you want something to happen that hasn't--" Of course I meant break up, but I didn't want to say it. "--you need to talk to me, Steve. It isn't just going to go away. We live together." I said, my voice low and serious. He didn't answer, and I growled in frustration, climbing off the bed and walking out of our room.

It was only a few days later that he left for good. 

I had just come home from work, and found him sitting on our mudroom bench, tying his shoes. He had next to him a suitcase and duffle bag, and looked wearily up at me when I walked in.

"What..." I looked at his bags, then at him. "What's going on?" I asked, taking my keys from between my teeth. He looked upset, a sad frown poisoning his features.

"I'm leaving." He said, playing with the zipper on his jacket. He wouldn't look me in the eye.

I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach, and crossed my arms. "You--what?" I bit my lip, already feeling tears spring to my eyes.

"I'm leaving. And I'm not coming back. Don't follow me." He said, picking up a bag. I felt my jaw drop open, and my eyes instantly blurred with tears.

"Wait--Steve." I said, reaching out and putting a hand on his arm. His muscles tensed when I touched him, and his head whipped to look at my hand. "Why are you doing this?" I asked, my voice helpless.

He paused for a moment, and I closed my eyes. Don't say it. Don't say it. "We can't be together." He said, and I felt my heart plummet. "I don't--" His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. "I'm not in love with you." He said, closing his eyes and looking down at the floor.   
I didn't ask any more questions.... and he didn't wait for me. He didn't wait for me. 

And he never came back.


	3. 2015

Now

I had almost completely forgotten about him. He was just a whisper of my past. Just a spell in the wind. He had escaped my mind, left my memory. It took me almost six months to finally move on--he would show up in the media and it was like a knife in my side. But nothing hurt worse than the day he left. 

 

I stepped out of my car, grabbing the six paper bags full of groceries from the backseat of my car. I took out my keys, humming along to the silenced music that was playing. I juggled the six bags in my hands, placing my keys between my teeth. 

My front door was unlocked, which seemed strange, but I figured maybe my friend Eve had come in. She visited frequently, and came and went as she pleased. I didn't mind. I liked her company. I liked almost all company, since I easily got lonely. I'd been working at the martial arts training center for so long that I was the assistant manager. I rather liked it there, but I was the only woman who worked there. 

I stepped into my foyer, barely being able to open the door with all the bags in my hands. I set the 6-pack of sodas on top of my outdoor freezer and closed the door behind.

The bench in my foyer was built there by my father and I when I was almost five years younger, we had built it and painted it together when I first moved in. I had put my handprint, along with Steve's, there when he moved in with me. I had covered it up, taping a sign on top of it that said; 'zombie outbreak response team'.

There he was. Sitting with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped in between. He looked up when I closed the door, and my jaw dropped open. He looked no different. His eyes still the same gorgeous blue, his hair still swept back above his forehead. It looked a bit less gelled now, like he'd been running his hands through it a lot. He hadn't grown at all, and barely changed. His eyes met mine, and his Adam's Apple bobbed. 

"Elle." He breathed, not moving an inch. No. It wasn't him. I felt the keys in my mouth drop to the floor, and I quickly set the bags on the bureau before I dropped them as well. He stood, his hands fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeves awkwardly. He was wearing a button-down shirt, matched with fitted jeans and sneakers. Of course. He never left his sneakers. Of course, they were different sneakers now. 

"What...." I stuttered, my throat too dry for words. I swallowed, pursing my lips. "What are you doing here?" My lip trembled, and I grit my teeth, trying to control myself. He kept staring at me, his eyes glittering. They weren't like they were, shut-down and blank. They were more open, but darker. His eyes had a brooding look to them, like a man in depression. They told you everything about what he was thinking. 

It took him a moment before he processed what I had said. He cleared his throat, "I'm--um," He cleared it again, bringing his eyes up to mine. "There's a minor crisis at SHIELD." He said, clasping his hands. 

I gathered myself, tears stinging at my eyes. "What are you doing here, Steve." My voice was thick with emotion, but I kept it steady. He looked at me, his face tortured. 

"You're in danger." He said shortly, keeping his eyes on the floor now. "We want you to come with us to SHIELD, and we want to keep you safe." He said, swallowing again.

I knit my brow, not looking away from his eyes. "Who the hell is we?" I asked, clenching my teeth. I bit the inside of my cheek, my throat aching with held-back sobs. 

A muscle in his jaw jumped, and he took a step toward me. I flinched back involuntarily, and a hurt look flashed across his face. "Me." He corrected himself. I felt a flare of anger spark in my mind, sending shots of red across my vision.

"And since when do you give a shit about me?" I asked, a choked laugh escaping my lips. The abrupt use of my lips caused a sob to leak out, but I stifled it. 

His eyes widened, and he licked his lips, running a hand through his hair. "Elle. Will you please...?" He trailed off, his eyes catching on an object on the floor. I looked over, and closed my eyes. 

My boyfriend, Daniel, lived close to me. He worked at the martial arts place with me. He came over frequently to spend time watching movies with me. We hung out a lot, and the other day he stayed overnight. He had left his change of clothes, and I'd put it by the washer to launder for him. 

Steve looked at it, his eyes wide and his whole body tensed. I tried to break the silence, taking my bags and walking into my kitchen. I set them on the counter, starting to take things out and put them away; like he wasn't there. "You can't just expect me to get in a car and drive away with you, Steve." I mumbled, grabbing the produce and shoving it angrily into my refrigerator. He walked slowly in, his footsteps heavy but soft. 

"I don't want anyone coming after you." He said, looking anxiously out the window. I scoffed, turning to him. 

"Again, why do you care so much? Why don't you go find someone who'll buy your story, Steve. Leave me alone." I put both hands on my hips, trying to look intimidating. He looked helplessly at me, leaning against my counter like it was the most casual situation in the world.   
"It's not like that." He whispered, but I rolled my eyes. 

"Exactly. It's not like that, and that's why you need to leave." I felt tears sting at my eyes again, my heart too heavy to be angry. "You can't just leave like that--" I broke off, my voice cracking. I cleared my throat, "And expect everything to be okay when you just show up at my house." I picked something else out of my bag, placing it into the back of the cabinet. He seemed at a loss for words. I heard a phone start to ring, and he reached into his pocket, pulling out a smartphone and looking at it. 

He looked apologetically at me, but I ignored him, finishing putting my groceries away. I grabbed my phone, flicking it on and texting Eve.

Surprise visitor.

I turned it off, waiting for a response, but Steve came back in. "We have to leave." He said, shoving his phone into his back pocket. He kept nervously looking out the window, and I felt a cold sense of urgency drift off him.

"Why won't you tell me what's going on?" I asked, trying to catch his gaze.

He paused, looking at me earnestly. "Hydra has hatched a new mission. They want anyone who's close the the Avengers initiative. Pepper, Jane, You." He was looking urgently around the room. "They're trying to infiltrate the team by taking you out." His eyes were glassy, his blue eyes reflecting even brighter. I didn't say anything, and he took the silence to grab a bag from beside my desk. He gave it to me, " Pack something. We have to get out of here." 

 

The car ride was quiet and awkward, and after almost twenty minutes, I'd had enough. I reached over, turning on the radio. A soft heavy metal music came on, and I wrinkled my nose. I pressed the second preset. Country music. I sighed, wincing. 

"Don't you have anything good on here?" I asked, flipping open the CD compartment under the dash. At least two dozen albums sat in neat stacks, filling the cabinet to the brim. I looked at them, my jaw dropping fractionally. Every single one was a Ray Charles album. 

I glanced over at Steve, biting my lip. He had almost twenty six Ray Charles albums in his car. "Where did all of these come from?" I asked, almost in awe. I pulled the stack out and into my lap, looking through them.

"I ahm--" He stuttered, clearing his throat. "I bought them." I stopped, looking over at him. I looked through them, finding at the bottom of the stack; Nevermind. Nirvana. I sat in disbelief for a moment more, then silently slid the CD into it's player. 

He'd remembered.


End file.
